Light my fire, my love
by MagicalBeth
Summary: The flat is burning. But it seems Sherlock's feelings start burning inside his chest too.


John was waiting in the bus stop when he received a message in his mobile. Sherlock.

John, you should come –SH

I can't now, Sherlock! I've got a date with Rachel. What do you want now? –JW

The kitchen is… on fire. – SH

Wha- okay, I'm on my way to home. Tell me, what happened exactly? –JW

I was cooking. –SH

Right, next time you may want to order in. Are the firemen there? –JW

Yes, I just called them. I'm in the street with Mrs. Hudson, just with jeans. –SH

Wait, you are in jeans? I never thought I'd see the day. Okay, I'll be there in a few moments, stay there. –JW

Sherlock turned off his phone. Yes, he was in jeans, but they weren't HIS jeans.

John's cab pulled up to the building and he got out with a sigh as he texted his date that he would not be coming before going over to see Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson, one of which was talking nonstop still about the last fire she had seen in her days.

Sherlock turned, saw John and smiles slightly.

John, we are here!

John walked up to them, looking at Sherlock in jeans with a smirk.

So, what were you making exactly that got out of hand?

Just fried eggs. I'm not very into this. However, I don't have the necessity to know how to cook because the chef is you – said grinning.

Right, of course. Well, note for you in the future. NEVER cook again. Unless it doesn't involve the stove or electronics.

John looked back at the smoke coming from the apartment building window and shaking his head.

I hope the fire didn't get far –said Sherlock.

Half an hour after, they entered the flat. John's bedroom was burnt, as the kitchen.

Oh John, your room…

Frustrated, John ran his fingers through his hair.

Brilliant – said with sarcasm – Looks like I'll be sleeping on the couch for a couple of nights.

Mmm, John. – coughed – Look at the couch.

The couch was full of stuff that wasn't affected and books. John looked annoyed at the couch.

Seriously, Sherlock. Why can't one of your quirks be to clean when you are bored?

Sherlock wasn't going to say sorry, so he went to his own room.

My room isn't burnt, John.

Yes, but Sherlock… It is your room. – John spoke in a matter of fact way, not getting the hint.

My bed is bigger than your bed.

John, then, got the hint and froze nervously.

Sherlock, are you inviting me to sleep with you?

Erm… – He blushed – Just… You don't have to be uncomfortable. You know, we can sleep in the same bed without touching. Because i-it's big.

John looked back to the couch and debated his options before giving in.

Fine. Well, um... Thanks, I suppose.

I'm going to… yeah, to wear my pajama.

Sherlock went to the bathroom. There, he looked at the mirror and found himself smiling.

John walked still nervously around Sherlock's room realizing he had nothing to wear but the clothes he had on.

Sherlock! Can I borrow some clothes by any chance?

Yes, of course.

The detective left the bathroom and found his flatmate in front of the wardrobe, only wearing black boxers.

With a beat red face probably, John pretended nothing was wrong as he pulled on a pair of Sherlock's sweat pants. He realized they were just a bit too long.

I'll use these, thank you.

Th-they are fine.

Sherlock sat on his bed, a bit nervous. He never shared a bed, even with his brother.

Okay, well then. Um, goodnight, Sherlock. – John moved to turn off the light ignoring the awkwardness that flooded the room.

Fifteen minutes later, both were still awake. Sherlock was looking at John's face, mostly to his lips. He thought John was asleep so he laid closer, softly.

John fluttered his eyes open to see Sherlock much much closer.

Is something wrong, Sherlock? – His tone was half awake.

No, just… stuff… on my mind. – spoke smiling, falsely.

John turned to see Sherlock face to face, even in the darkness of the room.

You are weird. More than usually – said without malice.

Sherlock sighed but kept looking at John. And suddenly, he caught John's hand in his hand, under the sheets.

Sher…lock?

Why are you holding my… Oh, what the hell.

The doctor smiled happily at Sherlock and kissed the detective hand.

Now, are you telling me what is troubling your mind?

John Hamish Watson.

That doesn't have to disturb your sleep time. – He hugged Sherlock.

You are warm, John.

John kissed Sherlock. It was a soft, sweet and long kiss. Sherlock was feeling excited and John was getting red like a tomato. Then, Sherlock put his head under John's chin, so John could smell the curly hair of his flatmate and now, love.

Good night, John.

Everything is going to be okay from now.


End file.
